


Another Kind of Game

by pomidor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, I don't do healthy relationships, M/M, don't like many tags so I'll just say that you should be prepared for, kinda Sugar Daddy stuff, you are warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-10-04 17:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10284251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomidor/pseuds/pomidor
Summary: John finds out what turns Sherlock on and teases him about it. As you might imagine it escalates farily quickly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time after 'A Scandal in Belgravia', in the hopeful Johnlock era.

John could admit this situation was maybe, a tiny bit, completely his fault. Who could blame him though? Living with Sherlock was tiring at the best of times, living with him when he was in a shitty mood for god knows how long now, would drive anyone crazy. 

It was a bad time too. He was woken by loud moans at three in the fucking morning. Turned out Sherlock was watching porn in the living room. Of course he lacked the human decency to watch such things with headphones and in his room. Thank god Mrs Hudson was away.

“Could you turn that down a bit?” John asked, his voice throaty from sleep.

“John!” Sherlock did not look particularly embarrassed or even surprised. “You’re awake. That’s splendid, I could use a second opinion. Come join me.”

John’s sleepy brain did not even try to touch upon how very wrong it was to watch porn with your male flatmate in the middle of the night. He knew Sherlock was watching it for a case, something about sex clubs, though John did not know the details, he was at work when it came up. 

“Yeah, just let me grab some milk and cereal.” He went to the kitchen. It was no use, trying to go to bed again. He could never fall back asleep right after waking up. Besides, there was no work tomorrow, he could just sleep before noon.

He thought the initial weirdness of watching and hearing people have sex when another man was next to him on the couch would wear off after a bit. It did not. Sherlock was not helping with the awkwardness, commenting on every little thing with such apparent disapproval that it made John feel ashamed. John liked watching porn, he saw nothing wrong with it, but Sherlock’s biting comments made him feel dirty somehow. 

“… and John, isn’t it absurd, those kinks? Tell me, why people are so keen on them?”

John was suddenly startled. “I wouldn’t know.”

It was definitely a bad way to answer, because Sherlock turned to him and pinned him with his sharp eyes. 

“Of course you would. You happen to like people looking down at you, that’s why you prefer your women to ride you.” He did not add ‘pathetic’ to the sentence, but John could read it from his expression. 

John was mortified, but that is what you get when you find an incredibly observant friend who also completely lacks tact. 

He meant to say something in return, but Sherlock turned his attention back to watching a girl in a bunny costume getting naughty with one in a wolf costume. 

Very soon John could not look at the screen anymore and instead watched Sherlock. He was curious whether his flatmate was really as uninterested as he seemed. He watched for signs of arousal, but found none. 

He was beginning to give up on that particular investigation when suddenly among the words and moans a loud whining ‘Daddy’ was uttered and Sherlock twitched. John looked at the screen. A girl and a boy, twins possibly, about twenty-five, but made to look younger, were sucking a sizeable dick of an older man. John looked back at Sherlock. He seemed normal. Maybe John imagined it? Or something else entirely caused Sherlock to do that? But then the boy said ‘Daddy, please, let me drink it’ and there was no mistaking it. Sherlock’s posture changed, his muscles contracting to keep him still. In the morning light John could see his blush, reaching even his ears. Sherlock was aware he was being watched and that John was not stupid or unobservant enough not to know what happened.

Normally, John would just let it go. It was not in his nature to point out other’s strange preferences, but Sherlock has been a dick about it for the whole night. What’s more, he found it so funny and unexpected that Sherlock, who he considered completely asexual before the Women, and later straight and maybe slightly masochistic, would have such an embarrassing and harmless kink as that.

When the word fell again Sherlock clenched his eyes shut. He opened them only when John reached to stop the video. Sherlock looked at him, with a silent question.

“So” John started conversationally “’Daddy’ eh?” 

The shiver that went through Sherlock delighted John. He felt mischievous and not at all sorry when Sherlock looked at him crossly and stomped off. 

For once, he imagined himself a winner. God, how wrong he was.


	2. Chapter 2

John often felt at once underestimated and idealized by his friends. Sherlock did that too, considered him not as capable in thinking, but being somehow above others in terms of goodness. Which was, of course, untrue. John was not better than other people. He could be quite petty, even to the point of being cruel. 

For example, he initially planned to let that incident with ‘Daddy’ remain forgotten. He really did.

Sometimes though, not often, he just couldn’t stop himself from answering Sherlock’s, frankly appalling, behaviour without breaking some of his self-induced resolutions.

Honestly, he only used it twice. The first time was because he had a really bad day and Sherlock emptied their whole kitchen of anything eatable. Well, not Sherlock exactly, in reality his homeless informants ate everything, but it was the detective that told them to ‘take anything they wanted’. 

Normally, John would probably somehow let it go. But that day he had to cover for two other doctors, he was exhausted and hungry to the point of being in tears. 

“Sherlock!”

The tall, lanky figure entered the kitchen looking unimpressed upon noticing John’s exasperated face.

“If you insist on giving away my food, for which I paid, you could at least buy some of it back.”

“Don’t be absurd, John. I’m in the middle of a case, I hardly have time to go grocery shopping.”

“You could at least have send me a massage we don’t have food. I could have bought it on my way.”

“I was busy.”

John sighed heavily. He was dangerously close to murdering Sherlock, and he didn’t think anyone would blame him. But a different approach came to mind, and maybe it was spiteful, and sure, a little embarrassing, but it was so very worth it.

“But Daddy, I’m hungry.” He tried his best to sound as whiny as possible.

Sherlock’s face changed so quickly from shock to furious embarrassment and mortification John was not even sure he managed to read all of that correctly before Sherlock angrily left the kitchen.

After a moment they went to a Vietnamese restaurant, so he supposed all was well and forgiven. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.

So the first time, nothing really happened. The second time, however, he might have gone slightly overboard. And by ‘slightly’ he means that he completely fucked up.

He liked to think it was because he was drunk at the time. It was an unusual situation anyway. They went to drink with the new recruits placed under Lestrade’s wing. John was initially surprised that Sherlock wanted to take part in something like this, but then Sherlock leaned down and whispered he suspected one of them of triple homicide and had to collect more data. 

Which was why he was talking, quite animatedly, with a young woman, while John drank with Lestrade. Greg was capable of getting John drunk fairly quickly. 

So when he heard the girl say something along the lines of ‘so, what do you think about children, Mr Holmes’ he couldn’t quite stop himself.

He blurted out something he knew he would regret.

“What, that’s ridiculous! Sherlock wouldn’t want to be called ‘Daddy’. Would you, Sherlock?” 

He realized he did something wrong only when the younglings, Greg and most of all, Sherlock stared at him. It probably wasn’t even the words themselves, it was his voice. He didn’t plan to sound so suggestive. 

He realized he called Sherlock out on his weird kink in front of a group of people, some of them well acquainted with them. Somehow, he had a feeling he also didn’t help his whole ‘not being gay’ argument.

Sherlock’s reaction was even worse. He stomped in John’s direction with such madness in his eyes, John was honestly prepared for being hit. However, Sherlock just caught his arm and dragged him out of the bar. 

Outside, he was tossed unceremoniously against the grating that covered the bar’s windows. He tried to push away, but was quickly surrounded by Sherlock’s arms, placed near his head. He was so close, way too close to John’s face.

John never really felt physically threated by Sherlock, he was fairly certain he could take him on with high chances of winning. At that moment, however, the intensity of Sherlock’s gaze reached a new level and John felt as if he was being killed in a thousand of ways, stripped of organs and bones. He was rooted to the spot, almost shivering under those furious eyes.

He was also becoming quite aware that the people inside the bar could see them. That made his blush so hard it seemed to break Sherlock’s focus a little. 

“You should be careful, John.” He said with a silky voice, yet it still sounded like a threat, “There are things about you, you aren’t even aware of.”

With that he freed John and they proceeded to go home. The whole way they were silent, Sherlock fuming and John too embarrassed to talk.

John can admit, he was mean and foolish. He understood why, on the next day, Sherlock disappeared somewhere leaving a note ‘case, don’t interrupt ’ on John’s armchair and didn’t appear for five days after that. So, he needed space, fine with John. At least he didn’t have to apologize right away and hopefully they could both forget about it.

On the third day of Sherlock’s case John received a package. Inside was a jumper and a note with Sherlock’s handwriting. It said ‘Truce? I think it will suit you. SH’

Now, it was unlike Sherlock to ever apologize for anything. Maybe it was a trap. Still, it was a very nice jumper, woollen, with dark horizontal stripes, and between the stripes the colour changing from dark grey to white, with a yellow stripe at the bottom. 

John decided to count his blessings for now. If Sherlock was feeling charitable, surely John was not one to reject it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jumper: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/d0/fb/7a/d0fb7a1fe0e5ecfdd643f82bb79a4ce0.jpg


	3. Chapter 3

John was often unaware of what caused Sherlock to act the way he did and this time he maybe could have realized sooner, he admits, but how was he supposed to know? Who could ever understand what went on in that brain? Anyway, John feels he should not be blamed for not realizing some things sooner.

When Sherlock returned from his case and handed John a colourful box, John was surprised. When he opened the box and saw five rows of French macarons he was speechless. He never even tried those before. 

“Sherlock, why are you giving me this?”

“Isn’t it customary to bring a gift if one was away?”

“I mean yeah but … wait, don’t tell me you’ve been in France?”

Sherlock’s expression told John what he needed to know.

“Why were you in France?” John was a bit hurt he was not present for this trip.

“I was doing something for someone.”

“For your brother, you mean?”

Sherlock’s look of utter disgust meant it was indeed for Mycroft. Interesting. Usually, when Mycroft asked Sherlock to do something he had to annoy him (and John, for that matter) for a month, before Sherlock agreed. 

John took a white macaron into his mouth and did a mental double take. He did not imagine it would be that good. It looked hard from the outside, but the vanilla inside was chewy. He looked up and saw Sherlock self-satisfied smirk which meant Sherlock could easily see the pleasure John was experiencing. 

“Do you want some?” he asked, because Sherlock was looking at him very with strange intent. 

“No, it’s-” Suddenly he stopped and seemed to realize something “Yes, please.”

When John shoved the box in his direction, Sherlock completely ignored it and just opened his mouth expectantly. John sighed and complied, picking a black macaroon and pushing it through Sherlock’s mouth. It was not the first time he fed the childish detective. Occasionally, when Sherlock was immersed in a case for too long and John, anxious his friend would faint at some point, grew tired of asking him to just eat a little, he force-fed him. While Sherlock was usually compliant, he never looked at John in those moments, not like he did now. His gaze was known to be piercing and John found himself wondering if Sherlock was checking for some clues, if he was in the middle of some bizarre experiment conducted on John. 

The thing is, when small things happen you tend not to notice until you look back and connect the dots. John had no right to see it right away. 

For instance, it seemed only a little bizarre when they were walking up next to each other and suddenly he felt a gloved hand touching his ear.

“Your ears are red, John.” He heard Sherlock’s deep voice.

“It’s cold.”

It was true. London rarely got this freezing. Even though the snow looked marvellous John was definitely not prepared for it. He wanted to stay in the flat the whole day, but, of course, someone had to be found mutilated in the waste bin. Sherlock wouldn’t even be interested in it if the victim wasn’t left with a mysterious note. 

Sherlock rarely left the site of the crime before looking at the victim, but suddenly he told John to ‘wait a moment’ and disappeared. When he returned twenty minutes later John was surprised by suddenly having his head covered by a black beanie. He didn’t see it very well, as Sherlock put it on him quickly, but he could say it was black, and quite simple, except for a bit of fur underneath that felt really nice and warm on his ears.

“Sherlock? Than-“

“Don’t thank me yet.”

He reached into the shopping bag once again and fished out dark grey gloves. John could put these on by himself, but Sherlock seemed to have a different idea. The moment John took his hand out of his pocket Sherlock grabbed it, not hard, but purposefully, and proceeded to put on the glove. When he passed to John’s other hand John noticed the police were staring at them. Only then he realized that there was something inexplicably intimate in dressing someone, even if those were only winter clothes. 

John hoped Sherlock was done, but then came the scarf. It was a nice scarf, with squares different shades of blue and grey. If possible it felt even more intimate, especially that John suspected Sherlock didn’t need to be quite this close or lean quite to the level of his face to put it on. God, no wonder there were so many rumours about them.

“There, done.” Sherlock stepped back, looking pleased with his handiwork. 

“Thank you, Sherlock, but why?”

It wasn’t normal for Sherlock to care that much, especially while on a case.

“I can tell this case is going to take us a couple of days and I can’t have you getting sick.”

John wasn’t going to lie, he felt warmer. Sherlock was caring for him, somehow, and this was a man who couldn’t even care for himself half of the time. It did make John feel a bit special. 

He would have ignored that instance, but a day later Sherlock took him out for mulled wine and refused to let John pay. 

A week later he gave John a new detective story that John wanted to read, because he apparently ‘found it by accident on a street market, and thought maybe John would like it’. John doubted that a book that was just published two months ago was already on street markets, but he let it go. 

Even when he found a small box on his bed and opened it to find a freaking Rolex inside, he somehow let it slide. He went up to Sherlock to make sure the other knew it was not John’s birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s day, or anything that could warrant such generosity. Sherlock seemed unaffected and told John it was ‘just a little gift’ and resumed his work, shushing the other’s protest.

Now, two days later John was looking at the Rolex on his hand. It must have been quite expensive. Could this even be called a ‘little gift’? John felt queasy. Something was wrong. Something was definitely, horribly wrong and he started suspecting what it was.

When he returned to the flat he found Sherlock in the kitchen. 

“Okay, what are you playing at?”

The detective didn’t even look up from his microscope. 

“Whatever do you mean, John?”

“This, Sherlock” John lifted up the hand with the Rolex “What is this?”

“It’s a watch, John, I’m pretty sure even you can deduce that.”

“Why did you give me a watch? Why did you give me all those things?”

Sherlock didn’t answer or even look at him, but John could see his self-satisfied smirk.

“Where did you even get money for that?”

Sherlock’s smirk disappeared. 

“Your brother! That’s why you went to France? But why would you go so far?”

Sherlock looked at him at last. His face was half smug, half irritated, it was hard to say exactly. 

“What, are you playing some snogging sugar daddy? Well, newsflash, you are not rich enough to play the role and I am older than you!”

“You made fun of me.”

“I made –“ John drew his breath in forcibly “You’re right, Sherlock, I am sorry, but I don’t see how one things connects to another.”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

“Turnabout? How is this a way to make fun of me? You’re just wasting your money and time without any reason!”

“There is a reason. I told you there are things about you that you’re not aware of.”

“And that is what? I don’t get turned on by receiving gifts, Sherlock.”

The detective suddenly stood up and moved into his space. If he was going to move a centimetre closer John would definitely smash his idiot face. He might be taller but John wasn’t going to get intimidated.

“Your father wanted you to be manly. He taught you that wanting things that you do not need is selfish and something that a man shouldn’t do. I observed you. You might be fine with getting gifts on occasion, but you never buy anything luxurious or impractical for yourself. And yet you do think about those things you don’t need. You perceive it as a weakness. But you also see it as something forbidden, something … exciting.”

Sherlock had his full deduction face on and the sharpness in his eyes made John hesitate before answering his accusation. 

“I do not! Don’t twist this so that I fit your perversions. I bet you wish I would just come and say ‘thank you so much, Daddy, you are so good to me’!”

Something was wrong when he used that word. A new sort of madness appeared in Sherlock’s eyes. 

“You may lie to yourself, John, but you can’t tell me that you didn’t feel good when you received them.”

“Because I didn’t know what it meant! I thought you were just being nice! Return the things and don’t buy me anything more.”

“No.”

“Sherlock-“

“If you don’t want them just throw them out.”

The damn bastard returned to his microscope, completely ignoring the fuming John. The doctor decided he didn’t want to be in his proximity any longer and stormed to his room. He started furiously throwing everything he got from Sherlock in the past month on his bed. He was going to throw it away if that’s what Sherlock wanted! 

He stopped, however, when it came to the Rolex still on his hand. He looked at it and then at the other things. Fine, so the Rolex was expensive, but it’s not like the other things were. He can throw them out and sell the watch on eBay. That sounded sensible. 

The longer he looked at the things the more he realized the horrible truth. He didn’t want to throw them away. He liked them. Sherlock gave them to him and even though he had ulterior motives he still felt it belonged to him now. That throwing it away would be a waste. 

Oh damn, if Sherlock wanted to play, John would play. Sherlock could go bankrupt if he so wished, it would serve him right. 

The next morning he woke up to find a box on his nightstand. Inside was a cell phone. A freaking cell phone! 

But he couldn’t give up now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're bored you can hit me up on tumblr: https://pomidorfriend.tumblr.com/ . I kind of made a (terrible) moodboard of all the things John's getting. 
> 
> But if you don't want to here are the links to the things:
> 
> https://www.richart-chocolates.com/chocolates/french-macarons?from=french-macarons
> 
> https://www.bluebananas.co.uk/products/2017-brand-beanies-knit-mens-winter-hat-caps-skullies-bonnet-winter-hats-for-men-women-beanie-fur-warm-baggy-wool-knitted-hat
> 
> https://www.superbuy.my/shop/odegard-mens-winter-gloves-bl-s-2/p/322909
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Gallery-Seven-Mens-Scarf-Elegantly/dp/B07612Z26V
> 
> https://www.schaapcitroen.nl/en/rolex-datejust-36-41657255.html


	4. Chapter 4

John thought his life was crazy enough, what with helping a genius consulting detective solve crimes and whatnot. Apparently not, because if your flatmate happened to be Sherlock Holmes you were in it for the full experience. 

Currently, for instance, he was seated across from Sherlock in, what John assumed was a very expensive restaurant with a French name he could not pronounce. And he believed that nothing could surprise him more than the debit card he found in the new card holder on his bedside table two days ago. The card was on his name, but the leather holder had Sherlock’s initials. A clear enough message. John was afraid to even touch it. 

“You’re over-exerting yourself, Sherlock. I told you Indian was fine.” He told between the bites of his delicious mysterious food that he allowed Sherlock to order for him.

“And I told you we are here on a case, John.”

“Sure. And you had to buy everything I’m wearing right now, because I obviously don’t own a suit. Or shoes. Or a tie.” 

“These look better on you.”

John was not going to allow Sherlock to make him embarrassed.

“You know, I’m a little worried that you know my size better than I do. Without any measurements. This suit feels as if it was made for me.”

“It was made for you.”

That much John suspected, he only wanted to make sure. He really underestimated how much money Sherlock got from his brother.

“I’m assuming you’re going to want to pay for the food as well?” John asked sipping the wine. It was good, if a little too sweet. 

“I always pay for food, John. Don’t pretend you need to ask, you didn’t even take your wallet.”

“I could have taken your card.” 

Sherlock had the audacity to smirk at him.

“You could have, but you didn’t. I know you haven’t touched it. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you know. It’s just some extra money.”

“I earn money, Sherlock. I don’t need you to give me any.”

“Your earnings you spend on things you need. I want you to spend what I gave you on things you want.”

“Oh, so there are rules to spending it?”

“Of course not. If you wish to buy groceries with it, I will not object. It was only a suggestion.”

John sipped the drink thoughtfully.

“How much is even on it?”

“Well, let’s just say that if you quit your job I am certain that you wouldn’t go hungry for over a year.”

“God, Sherlock. Isn’t this too much? First the phone, then the card and now this ridiculous place and the suit. How much more –“

“Phone?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember?”

“I didn’t give you a phone.”

A thoughtful silence fell over their table. 

“If not you, than who?”

“I have a theory, but I need to see the phone to be sure.”

“I left it at home. Do you think it’s Moriarty?”

“No, I have someone else in mind. We will check later.” 

Sherlock became distracted with looking around the restaurant. John let him, it was true that they had a case, and he trusted Sherlock really had a lead that made them come here. 

“See that man over there, John?”

John looked over to where Sherlock was pointing. 

“Yes. A business man, I believe? Likes to eat well but doesn’t have anyone to take with him. He’s not bad looking. Is he gay? But not out?”

Sherlock smiled at him.

“Precisely, John.”

“Is he a suspect?”

“A lead more probably.”

“Are we here to question him?”

“Not here. I know what I need to know to go further in the case. But I’m afraid you’re not going to like the next step very much.”

“So you brought me dinner to make me what … more easily convinced?”

“I brought you dinner because I want you to eat well. But yes, you might say my objectives were a little more than that.”

John sighed “What do you need me to do?”

***

“No way.” 

“John, I really need that-“

“I don’t care. You fucking wear it!”

“I told you, you’re much more his type.”

“The clothes, I could maybe live with, but a collar, Sherlock? Really?”

“He likes subs who belong to other people.”

“Can’t I tell him I’m taken?”

“We must bring his attention to you. He must approach you on his own.”

“And a collar is going to help with that how?”

“You will look stunning?”

“I hate you.”

Fifteen minutes later John was in very tight black jeans and an even tighter blue shirt. Oh, and let’s not forget a fucking black collar around his neck. Sherlock mussed his hair, so he looked even more like a whore. Great. 

They didn’t ride a taxi, but a slick black car. Sherlock explained that the club was rather high-class, so they had to arrive like rich people. This once John was happy for Sherlock’s horrible spending habits, if only for the black glass separating them from the driver. The less people saw him the better. 

When they exited the car, Sherlock put his arm on John’s lower back, and John tried to use as much of Sherlock’s body as he could to shield himself from the stares. Thankfully, the club had dark reddish lights, making him less recognizable. Not that he knew any rich people who frequented such clubs, but you never know. 

Before John had a chance to take a good look at the club a waiter approached them. 

“Mr. Charlton, I presume?” he said.

“Indeed. I phoned earlier.”

“Of course. Please, follow me.”

Sherlock must have reserved a loge for them. John didn’t really care, as long as he could sit down and hide. It was in front of the bar, and some people sat there, but John assumed that if he sat more inside, Sherlock would cover him. That plan didn’t really work.

As soon as Sherlock ordered their drinks, John felt his hand encircle his waist. He didn’t react at first but Sherlock was dragging him closer.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“Don’t call me by my name. Here, I’m Eddie Charlton, but don’t call me by that either.”

“Then how am I supposed to call you? Besides, you didn’t answer my question; what are you doing?” 

Sherlock didn’t stop dragging him closer while they talked, so now John put his hands on his chest to put some distance between them.

“Best would be ‘Master’ or something like that. We must put on a show, and the closer you are, the easier it will be for me to explain to you what you have to do.”

John looked at him. No sign of giving up.

Sigh. “Fine”

He allowed Sherlock to put his hand under his knee and lift his leg and body over, so that John was now effectively sitting astride his lap. This situation was almost funnily embarrassing. 

John opted to cooperate, not that he had any choice. Sherlock never stopped his ridiculous investigations in the middle. 

He left his hands on Sherlock arms for balance. Sherlock wasn’t nearly as proper and left one hand on his back, slightly above his ass, and to make matters worse the hand was now somehow below his shirt. The other hand he moved to the back of John’s neck, below the collar, and pulled him uncomfortably close. 

Everybody knew that Sherlock’s eyes had some paralyzing quality to them. From this close the effect was too strong for John to stand. 

“Are you alright?” Sherlock was searching his eyes. 

Not only his eyes, having his low voice so close wasn’t helping matters either.

“I would be much better with some alcohol.”

As if on cue the waiter returned with a bottle of scotch and two glasses, pouring the liquid into them and leaving again with a pleasant smile directed at John. Which was bad planning, as everyone could predict John was not the one paying. 

“You can drink, but don’t overdo it. I need you clear headed.”

“About that, you still didn’t tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do.” John answered while trying to reach for the glass without falling off Sherlock’s lap. Both of Sherlock’s hands around his waist supported him.

He almost spit it straight at Sherlock when a woman with nothing but ropes on passed next to their table and disappeared somewhere behind a red door.

“Tell me I don’t have to do that.”

“Only if you want.”

“Sher-“ Before he could finish, his lips were covered with a hand.

“I told you not to use my name.” Sherlock whispered, leaning next to his ear.

“Fine, ‘master’. What are we doing here?”

“Look in the direction of the bar.”

Only few people were there and John quickly noticed him. 

“There’s the man form the restaurant.”

“Yes. He is the man that saw the murderer here on Friday. He is unaware of it, and we could question him normally but I predict he won’t be very cooperative. That’s why you will have to do it covertly.”

John shivered. Sherlock was still speaking into his ear and it seemed as if he was making his voice even lower.

“In a minute I will leave you and you will go to the bar to order something. The man will talk to you. You will tell him about your friend that told you about him that he met last Friday. Try to coax as much information about the killer as you can. Flirt, but not too much. You have a master already, it would be suspicious if you were too willing.” 

“You seem very sure that man will approach me.”

“He will. We just have to draw his attention.”

“How do y- ah!”

Sherlock bit him. John couldn’t believe, Sherlock actually fucking bit his neck and he wasn’t letting go either. 

John’s first instinct, except letting out that embarrassingly loud sound, was to push Sherlock away. He remembered himself at the last moment and moved his hands from Sherlock’s chest to his curly hair. If Sherlock wanted to make a show, fine, he would get minimal cooperation. 

Sherlock seemed to reward John’s decision by removing his teeth and licking the place instead.

“You bastard, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” John hissed under his breath. Sherlock smirked against his skin.

“I’m sorry, John.” Great, now he was speaking against his throat. “I needed a genuine reaction.”

“My genuine reaction would be to shot you.”

Sherlock laughed. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Before John could answer, Sherlock started sucking his neck. It took all of his self-control not to make any more embarrassing sounds, but he couldn’t quite stop his body from shivering when he felt Sherlock’s hand moving up his tight. 

“What are you doing?” John forced himself to whisper. This was dangerous.

“Leaving a sign of possession” Sherlock answered when he let his neck go.

“I thought that’s what’s the collar was for.”

“It would look weird to just leave you without touching first.”

That bastard was smirking. So close to John’s face too.  
When John suddenly felt Sherlock’s hand caressing his spine he couldn’t stop his back from straightening and Sherlock’s smirk only grew. Shit, it was now impossible to hide how much it all affected John.

John closed his eyes. There was a limit of how much of Sherlock’s smug face he could take.

“I think he definitely noticed you now. Let’s stand up.”

John followed instructions not sure how he felt about leaving their spot on the couch. Sherlock’s hand made him look up.

“I will be gone for a moment, baby.” Sherlock was speaking louder. “Wait for me with the scotch, buy yourself something nice there.” And with a quick peck on the lips that John barely registered, he was gone. 

He very confusedly asked the barmaid for a Long Island Iced Tea but remembered why they were here when the man he was supposed to investigate said to her “On me” and sat down next to him.

“Mr. Charlton won’t be happy about this.” John said, not being able to say master naturally enough, but still trying to maintain some form of submissiveness.

“We don’t have to tell him, do we?”

The man clearly had no common sense. Sherlock, as well as John, could kill him with their bare hands.

“I suppose not.” John said, sanding him a shy smile.

“I’m Thomas Chilton.” The man said extending his hand. He was quite handsome, and seemed pretty normal. Definitely not like the kind of guy who enjoyed this kind of things. And he didn’t really have an air of dominance. 

“Philip.” John answered shaking the offered hand. Anderson’s name was the first that came into his mind. “Hey, aren’t you a guy that tried to pick up my friend last Friday?”

“Friend? Oh, you mean the redhead. Yeah, I am kind of a regular here.”

“So, did it work?”

“What? Didn’t your friend tell you?”

“He always lies about these sort of things. I guess he’s afraid I would babble, but I won’t, you know? I’m just curious.”

“Oh, so you know his damn boyfriend then? God, I hated that guy.”

“You know each other?”

“A bit from work, yeah. I must admit, I was really determined to steal a date from him. But your friend didn’t budge. And now I will no longer have a chance.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you know? Heard poor bastard’s dead. Some terrible accident, though the people at the office didn’t want to tell me anything more. Probably, he was driving drunk, who knows. I actually feel bad about him, he had an eye for beauty. But enough talking about the deceased, there are better topics.”

“You’re right. Sorry about being so inquisitive, I’m just really curious about the whole situation. My friend is something of a mystery to me.”

“Oh, I feel you. You’re quite similar to him too, I thought you might be related or something, but when I heard you speak I figured you ought to have the same accent if you were family.”

“The truth is, I still don’t know what his accent is. You see, I’m terrible at this sort of thing and he loves to lie to me about it.”

“Well, I’d wager it was Italian. Though he certainly didn’t look like one.”

John wondered what he should ask about next. He had no idea what information Sherlock needed. 

“Where did your Mister go, anyway?”

“I have no idea. He likes to surprise me.”

“Well, if I was in his place.” Said Thomas, putting his hand on John’s leg. “I would never leave a beauty like you alone for fear someone would snatch you.”

“There’s no need for that.” Sherlock’s sudden voice made them both jump. How did he arrive here unnoticed?

“I beg you pardon?” Thomas asked, a bit fearfully.

“I’m open-minded about those kinds of things, right baby?” Sherlock looked into his eyes.

This, this was just simply being mean. And John could be mean too. He stood up from the chair and caught Sherlock’s jacket.

“You know I belong only to you, Daddy.”

Sherlock’s eyes changed instantly, passing through shocked to dark. He leaned in to John’s ear.

“John, this isn’t the right place.” He hissed, holding his arm so hard it hurt.

“Of course, I want to get out of here, daddy. This place started to bore me.” He felt Sherlock’s hand tightening. “Goodbye, Mr Chilton.”

Sherlock practically dragged him through the red door. John was curious what was inside before, but when he saw, he wanted to go back. They were in a corridor with glass walls on both sides. Some of the glass had curtains behind it or dark rooms but there were some that showed the inside of the rooms. 

John shouldn’t be surprised to see people fucking in this kind of place. It was the way they were doing it that made him uneasy. 

Sherlock let him go, and John stopped against a glass right before the girl in ropes they saw earlier. She was being spanked by another woman, surprisingly dressed quite normally. The spanked girl made eye contact with him and smiled. He could see how much she liked it. 

“The fuck was that, Sherlock? Why did you tell him that?” He turned around to see Sherlock’s angry face. What the hell, he was angry too.

“He only likes to steal people. I was giving you an easy way out.”

“And I played along.”

“No, you deliberately said something that you knew would affect me, just to be petulant.”

“Me, petulant? I was going along with your stupid scheme and that’s what you think? That I was doing it to get on your nerves? You didn’t seem to be avoiding things that would affect me on that couch.”

“I was playing a role.”

“Oh, were you? Because, it seems to me, Sherlock, that a self-proclaimed genius would be able to come up with a million different ways to get information out of that man. And yet you chose this one. You know what I think? I think you’re trying to confuse me with your mind games, though I cannot for the life of me guess why. And you know what? I’m not just going to sit quietly and do whatever you want me to do. You have weaknesses and I’m going to use them against you if you’re so set on making a fool out of me.”

“This is not-“

“Enough. Take me home. I want to get out of these stupid clothes.” 

Sherlock got closer to him and for a moment John wanted to not let him, but he realized he was only taking off the collar. He didn’t even touch John’s skin.

They returned home in silence and in silence disappeared into their rooms. 

John was laying on his bed, unable to sleep when suddenly he heard a phone. It was a generic ringtone, and it took him a moment to realize it was the phone he found next to his bed before. He didn’t have time to ask Sherlock about it in the end. He wasn’t sure he should pick it up, but in the end curiosity won.

“Yes?”

“Hello, John. So nice to hear you, at last.”

John almost dropped the phone. That was impossible. She was dead. The woman was dead, how could she call him?


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re dead.” He said, astonished. 

Irene Adler. How was that possible?

“Oh, so Sherlock didn’t tell you? Well, well. He likes to keep his fair share of secrets, doesn’t he?”

“How are you-“

“Oh, it’s not that interesting of a story, John. I’m much more interested in what happens in your life. From what I heard Sherlock is giving you quite a headache?”

Did Sherlock actually contact her? Did he tell her everything?

“What do you want?”

“Oh, don’t be so sour, John. Sherlock only answered me, because I kept messaging him incessantly. Also, he values my opinion and experience. Besides, I would never have pieced it together if not for a certain friend who saw you in a certain club and decided to inform me.”

Of course Irene would have friends in such places. John wasn’t even surprised.

“From what I’ve heard you were arguing? Whatever was the matter?”

“And why would I tell you?”

“Because I might be able to help? Come on, John, I’m a specialist in that area.”

“And I should just trust you?”

“Sherlock seems to trust me enough to save my life, why wouldn’t you?”

“How can I know your intentions? For all I know, you might just be jealous.”

Even her deep laugh had something sexual in it.

“Oh, John, me and Sherlock will never work out. I have no interest in sabotaging anything, in fact, I’m hoping to move things forward.”

“There is no ‘forward’. Whatever Sherlock’s games are supposed to prove, it’s not what you think.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think he’s trying to make me look stupid.”

“Is that why he’s giving you gifts?”

“He wants to prove I derive pleasure from it.”

“What’s not to like in receiving gifts? What’s there to be ashamed of?”

“It’s one-sided. He’s proving himself to be the one in control.”

“Is he? You know, John, these days everything seems so suspicious. Everyone values their pride so much. Historically, wasn’t it normal to woo someone by lavishing them with gifts?”

“But we’re not a couple!”

“What would be the point of seducing someone who’s already your lover?”

“Sherlock is not seducing me!”

“Hmm, what is he doing then?”

John didn’t have an answer so he kept quiet.

“You are right about one thing, John; Sherlock does want to control you. He is the type to dominate others.”

“His choice of interests doesn’t really prove that.”

She laughed again.

“Oh, do you mean me? It’s true that Sherlock and I have similar taste, and you are no passive sheep either. But that’s the point, John.”

“Which is?”

“Where’s the fun in dominating someone who is naturally submissive? You have a strong character, you’re a leader. A perfect challenge.”

John sighed. That woman really did understand Sherlock well.

“What Sherlock doesn’t seem to realize is that the one who dominates isn’t necessarily the one who’s in control. Think about it, John. Think what you’re playing for. But most importantly have fun. I’ll call again sometime.”

Before John could ever think to answer, she hung up.

**********

Sherlock left before John had the chance to see him again. He wrote him a message that he was abroad working, no doubt another ridiculously well paid demand of his brother’s. John was a bit pissed at him, because he wasn’t at the clinic for the next three days and could accompany Sherlock if the other just asked, so he ignored the text. Maybe it was for the better that his stupid flatmate went away after that fight, but John was now undecided what to do with his time.

His conversation with Irene went on repeat in his head. ‘Have fun’ she said. How was he supposed to have fun? Why would he even listen to her?

He sat in his chair for over an hour overthinking everything and yet still not coming to any conclusion. Only when he heard Mrs Hudson steps on the stairs he raised up.

“Are you going shopping?” he called from his door.

“Yes, John, do you need anything?” 

“Not particularly, I just wanted to ask… Can I came with?”

After Mrs Hudson assented, delightfully surprised, he went to grab his jacket and stared at the card holder from Sherlock. It seemed to him as if he grabbed it, he could never go back. At last he snapped out of the silly feeling and took it into his pocket. 

After spending half an hour in various stores he realized something; he had no idea what he could buy, except for basic groceries. Mrs Hudson had a penchant for walking into every store they passed, but it just confused him further.

When they passed a nice looking store with ‘Balance Massage & Wellness’ written on the glass, Mrs Hudson sighed loudly. “I always pass this place, wishing to go in, but I never have the courage.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, it seems kind of like a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

John was struck with an idea. The look of this place was quite feminine and fanciful, but surely, men got massages too? And a ‘waste of money’ sounded exactly like the kind of thing Sherlock wanted him to spend his money on.

The long time it took to talk Mrs Hudson into agreeing to be treated by him and his initial doubts all faded away with the tension languidly leaving his body. He never expected it to feel this good, he received medical massages before, he was able to give them, but this was quite different. The exquisite pleasure of touch and aroma made him forget about his current problems and his mood held up throughout the evening, even when he tried to desperately hide Sherlock’s initials on the card holder when he was paying.

He took Mrs Hudson to dinner in a Greek place ‘Vasis’, which was not anything outrageously expensive, but he greatly enjoyed the cozy atmosphere and his sea bass main dish. 

When they both returned to their flats and Mrs Hudson thanked him for a wonderful evening, joking about John being a delightful date, he took out his phone and wrote to Sherlock.

John: You could have taken me with you. It’s been ages since I’ve been on vacation

It only took a moment for Sherlock to answer.

Sherlock: Soon. And I’m not on vacation, I’m at work. SH

John: I could have been of help.

Sherlock: I’d rather not involve you in foreign politics my brother is so fond of. And I see you found a way to occupy your time while I’m gone. Did you enjoy your massage? SH

He wasn’t naïve enough to think Sherlock wouldn’t control the payments from the card. He wanted Sherlock to know. That was rather the point, or what he understood to be the point Mrs Adler tried to make. 

John: Immensely

Sherlock: Good. SH

John thought the conversation was finished and was half asleep when he heard another text.

Sherlock: Do you want me to bring you back anything in particular? SH

It made him start awake. What was he supposed to do? He already used Sherlock’s money, allowing him to think he was a willing participant of this game. But he had no idea of what to ask for. He even considered contacting Irene for what would definitely be some embarrassing advice. 

John: What country are you in?

Sherlock: I’m in Switzerland. SH

What could John want from Switzerland? In his mind arrived only banal associations to the country. Swiss are known for chocolate, watches and what else? Cheese? His mind revolved around the idea of cheese for a while.

John: I always kind of wanted a fondue set.

He awaited the answer with apprehension. What in the world possessed him to ask for something so inconsequential as that?

Sherlock: Of course. Something besides that? SH

John: Some Swiss cheese for that might be nice

Sherlock: Done. SH

John typed the next text with shaky fingers.

John: And some chocolate

God, why was he making these needy requests? It was all Irene’s fault. He quite decided to blame his talk with her for all this. And yet, when Sherlock answered that he will be glad to bring it, John felt at once nervous and excited.


End file.
